


Unmasked.

by KiwiLombax15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, First time face reveal, Fluff, M/M, Roadhog has issues and Junkrat doesn't mind, soft junkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiLombax15/pseuds/KiwiLombax15
Summary: After all this time, Roadhog had still never shown Junkrat his face. Some secrets just can't be hidden, and sometimes it's best to just be brave.





	Unmasked.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagicVickri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicVickri/gifts).



He was going to have to show him.

Sooner or later.

How long had they been a couple? Years? He lost track. His life with Junkrat was a whirlwind. The world tour, the attempt on the Queen, the capture and eventual deal with Overwatch. All this time and he’d never once shown Junkrat his face.

Junkrat had never complained. Never even mentioned it. Roadhog knew that Junkrat Got It, instinctively understood why he might choose to hide. Junkertown hurt all it touched, ripped scars onto body and soul. Everyone found their ways to cope. So he smiled up at the piggy mask with every sign of delight, turned his face away if it ever had to come off or was knocked loose and accepted that kisses happened in pitch black or not at all.

Junkrat was happy. He could read the man like a book. He drank up all the love Roadhog had to give like water soaking into sand and returned it in spades. But the secret ate at him, the longer he spent in this safe environment, free from cops and feds. It was a lie, was what it was. Refusing to show him his true face even when he no longer had to hide it. He’d lied to Junkrat for _years_. And the man was _happy._

He had to do it.

He was terrified.

They often spent the evening in their room, lying on the bed watching old movies on a smuggled in TV or just talking shit as Junkrat worked on his bombs. Quiet and safe.

Tonight. Tonight then, when there was no one else but them, in the safety of their bedroom. He made up his mind.

Getting through the day was torture, mind twisting into knots at the thought of being mask-less after so long. Distracted, he was soundly thrashed in the evening poker match against Reinhardt and Ana, laughing it off to try and pretend his stomach didn’t feel full of ice.

And now here he was, Junkrat sprawled across his belly and fiddling with the guts of a radio. Time, Mako. You’ve delayed long enough…

“Junkrat.” he grunted.

“-So I says to D.va I says-yeah?”

“I gotta…I need to…”

“Something wrong, darl?”

“I think it’s about time…I showed you my face.”

Junkrat’s eyes widened, jaw dropping open.

“Mako…are you certain? Like…are ya really really sure?”

“Yeah…”

The radio was tossed aside and grubby hands came up to cup the sides of his mask.

“Ya reek of terror, mate. Ya don’t need t’ do this.”

“It’s been years, Junkrat. I can’t hide behind this any more. You deserve to see all of me.”

Junkrat bit his lip, eyes darting around like rats in tunnels as he thought. Mismatched hands came up and covered his eyes.

“Right…let me know when you’re ready. Take all the time ya need. If you change ya mind let me know.”

The care and kindness in his voice was like a soothing drink, easing the knots in his belly. Junkrat understood more than anyone here what it was like to be hurt, to scream at the world so they wouldn’t notice the broken edges where you put yourself back together. He could do this.

For Junkrat.

Breathing out, he raised his hands and began to unlatch the mask. Even so, his hands shook.

Slowly, ever so slowly, working through the stiff buckles with the speed of an ice age. Junkrat was never still, his body alight with twitches and fidgets, but the hands over his eyes never once moved as the muffled breathing became clearer.

The mask was off, clutched in meaty hands that trembled with nerves. The only barrier now was Junkrat’s hands, waiting for an order. Waiting for permission.

Roadhog swallowed, feeling his throat click. One breath, two…

“OK…”

Slowly, Junkrat moved his hands, carefully opening his eyes to see the dreadful truth of Roadhog. That the man, the monster, the one man apocalypse, lurked behind the face of a normal man. The truth he’d tried to hide from for so long, that sometimes ordinary people had to do dreadful things to survive. Plus he’d never been what you might call a handsome man even when he was young and proud and idealistic. A broken nose had been spread over his face, teeth knocked slightly snaggly from a police officers truncheon.

For a moment, Junkrat only stared. Roadhog could _see_ the stars forming in his eyes as he reached out in awe, fingers halting an inch from his soft cheeks. Asking permission.

Roadhog nodded.

“God…Look at you.” Gentle fingers that could both wire a delicate fuse or break a mans arm brushed over his cheeks. Junkrat’s face went soft.

“So handsome…anyone ever tell ya that?”

Roadhog chuckled softly.

“Flatterer. I was never handsome.”

“Never knew the One Man Apocalypse was a blind man. How inspirin’.”

Roadhog could feel the blush roar over his face at the outright flattery and this time he had no leather to hide behind.

“A blusher too! Ain’t I the lucky one.” He traced the wonky bridge of his nose as he gazed into the murky brown of Roadhog’s eyes. “Look at those eyes. So deep ‘n dark…could drown in those eyes.”

He’d expected shouting and excitement, not this. Softness and awe and love, a hard man allowing himself to be gentle. Usually Junkrat’s love was like a flame, hot and bright. Here it was the sun, gentle and warm and all encompassing, and Roadhog let himself melt in it, open and free and unchained by secrets and lies.

“Has anyone else seen ya face, Roadie?”

“Not in a long time. S’ just you.” He smiled. “Gonna keep it all t’ yourself?” That was what he’d expect from Junkrat, the way he hungrily grabbed at things he loved and kept them close.

“Nah. Too handsome to keep locked away. Wanna show you off t’ the whole watchpoint. Shame to lock art away.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Never thought you were an art fan.”

“Art should be seen, where everyone can enjoy it. Not locked away for some rich fuck to feel smug over. Otherwise what’s the bloody point? And this face, oh Mako…better than that moaning lisa lady in France.”

“I’m…not ready to show the others yet. Just you.”

“For now?”

“For now.”

Junkrat smiled, leaning forward and resting his forehead on Mako’s.

“Even if I never see this face again, I’m glad I got to. I’m glad you trusted me.”

“We’re partners, aren’t we? Fifty-fifty.”

“Fifty-fifty.” Junkrat agreed, pressing a feather light kiss on his lips. “Do you…need ya mask back?”

He thought for a while.

“I’m good for tonight.”

They spent the night cuddled close, watching Pacific Rim 2. The burnt tips of his hair tickled Roadhog’s cheek. Halfway through, a sooty hand came up and rested gently against his cheek. He fell asleep with the feeling of fresh air and Junkrat’s warm breath on his face.

In the morning, the mask came back on, the sound of buckles clinking a relief. He glanced over at Junkrat, expecting something, hurt or disappointment.

Junkrat only smiled and handed him his hook like any other day, golden eyes big and excited and ready to raise Cain.

“Come on, handsome. Talon ain’t gonna blow itself up!”


End file.
